


Tea in the moonlight

by SantaMalgastadora



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Blood, Blood Soup - Freeform, F/M, Fairy!Apprentice, First Aid, Fluff, Happy Ending, It's not as macabre as it may sound, Kissing, Longing, Love, Politeness, Psychological game, Resolved Romantic Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Soup, Teasing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yearning, vampire!julian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29695449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SantaMalgastadora/pseuds/SantaMalgastadora
Summary: A good hostess, like this fairy, makes her guest feel welcomed, and a good guest, like this vampire, is not a burden. She cleans up her home and prepares treats for him, and he brings her a gift. He offers to help and she accepts (eventually). She looks out for the moment he misbehaves, so she can rip him apart. He disregards his dominion over her, natural when he's invited in, and does his best to make her mistreat him, so he can drink her dry.Let the tea begin.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	1. Tea in the moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> The story was inspired by this post:
> 
> https://prokopetz.tumblr.com/post/184250983812/the-ultimate-power-move-in-a-vampirefairy-rivalry
> 
> "The ultimate power move in a vampire/fairy rivalry would be the fairy inviting the vampire over for tea. The vampire has natural dominion over anyone who invites them into their home, the fairy has natural dominion over anyone who violates the laws of hospitality, and neither can refuse the appointment without showing weakness, so it’d just be a constant headgame of the vampire trying to manoeuvre the fairy into a position where the obligations of hospitality allow the vampire to eat them, and the fairy trying to trick the vampire into doing something that would allow the fairy to declare them a poor guest."
> 
> The rules of hospitality, traits of good host and guest were taken from there:  
> https://livingourpriorities.com/hospitality-etiquette-rules-of-engagement-for-the-host-the-guest/
> 
> https://www.sfakia-xenia-hotel.gr/en/ancient

On a sweet, golden afternoon, in her little cottage at a forest's edge, [y/n] was bustling. Her butterfly-like wings were fluttering vigorously, spilling clouds of shimmering dust into the air, the tips of her bare toes leaving traces in the fine layer of it on the warm, wooden floors as she flew back and forth. She rushed from the pantry to the kitchen, bags and colourful jars in her arms; from there to the living room with a tray piled high with see-through porcelain and delicate cutlery; to the garden for an armful of pink camellias, white carnations and jasmine, and blue salvia, and rosemary to be stuffed into a pocket of her apron; then, _quickly, quickly!_ to the kitchen, called by her kettle's whistle.

All of this while being followed by her faithful, old broom, sweeping the floor behind her with unyielding persistence and patience.

In the rush, in the fuss, she didn't notice when the sun set and the blaze of orange and pink bled into blue dark as ink. She'd already put on her silky dress, her earrings of morning dew, and vivid cornflowers in her hair, and was just lighting candles all around the cottage, bathing it in amber glow, when she was startled by a gentle knocking on the door.

She gasped. _Was it the time already?_ She wiped her hands in the apron one last time, took it off and with a twist of her wrist, she sent it flying to the storage, the material folding on its way, the tireless broom following it swiftly. [y/n] folded her wings, landed gracefully on her feet clad in glossy satin pumps, and rushed to the door. She touched her hair, smoothed her dress, took a deep breath and, with her heart pounding, she opened.

There, leaning nonchalantly on the doorframe, dressed from head to toes in black so deep it competed with the night sky, making the pallor of his skin stark against it, stood Julian. His eyes rose to [y/n], and darkened and focused on her like a cat's on its prey.

"Good evening. My, my, do you look stunning." He flashed her a charming smile. "I am not too early, am I?"

"Thank you. You are handsome yourself tonight." She smiled sweetly in return. "And no, not at all. Right on time as always." She stepped aside and opened her arm.

In the flow, he took a step and was immediately reminded how profoundly, bone-crushingly _unpleasant_ it is to walk into the barrier naturally protecting any household from his kind. He bumped away, biting back a curse. He met her innocent gaze. _The little witch_. He was perfectly aware of what she was doing. Unbound by the laws of hospitality nor influenced by his dominion with him still uninvited and forced to wait like a dog at her doorstep, she could toy with him for as long as she'd like.

He barely managed to hide his annoyance behind a saccharine smile. "My dear," he struggled to keep his voice soft, baring his long, white tusks in the process, just a little. "You _did_ remember to withdraw your invitation last time."

She gasped. "Oh! Of course I did. So silly of me… I'm so sorry. Do come in please! Make yourself at home."

Now, this was a proper invitation. Julian sensed the barrier drop like falling dust. Unhurriedly, savouring the moment, he stepped over the threshold. Once inside, once she closed the door behind him, he inhaled deeply and sighed with the smell of flowers and tea and sugar, of honey and herbs, and hot pastries and fresh fruit... _and the sweetest, the most alluring, divine scent of a fairy_.

Julian's mouth watered, his gums throbbed, and a hungry growl rose up his throat, just like the first time he walked in here.

Just like every time.

But he knew that despite his age, speed and strength, the moment he'd violate the law and bare his teeth at her in her own house without a proper reason from her side, she'd have him in shreds all over her freshly swept floor, not even giving him a chance to get scared of her. Oh yes, he had seen a fairy's wrath unleashed. There was a rabid beast with claws and fangs lurking behind those lovely eyes and flower crowns. And he'd rather it stayed there.

So, he swallowed, bit back the noise and summoned the smile back on his face. "I think I'll never stop being amazed at how lovely your home is."

"You're too kind. It's always such a pleasure to have you." She offered him her hand.

One would notice his hesitation only if they looked for it (and she did) because it lasted a split second before he took the challenge. His fingers brushed underneath hers, so warm, even hot against his cool skin. To distract himself from the marvelous feeling of her pulse fluttering in his grasp, calling, singing to him, making his jaws ache with the roaring urge to _just_ _clench them around the soft, juicy flesh_ , he focused on holding her gaze. He bowed, bestowed the gentlest of kisses to her knuckles, the momentary closeness to the delicious skin nearly, _almost_ breaking him, then straightened up and let go of her hand.

They both chuckled - he with relief and triumph, she with impression and a tad of disappointment.

"Follow me please," she said, moving on with the rules binding her as a good hostess: she led him to the living room and was about to ask him to take a seat at the abundantly set table; to offer him something to eat and drink, and entertain him with a conversation. She was already smirking, already congratulating herself on the victory as he apparently broke a rule binding _him_.

 _He didn't bring her a gift_.

Her gums and fingers already tingled as her teeth and claws were about to grow and sharpen into deadly weapons. Her pupils widened, her pulse slowed, her mind cleared, and she could already almost taste the-

"Ah!" he exclaimed, making her blink and return to normal. "Where are my manners? Forgive me, I must've been staring at the decor." With a flourish, he produced a single, blood red rose from thin air. "For my favourite hostess."

[y/n] narrowed her eyes at him. _He did this on purpose, the cheeky bastard_. "And I was starting to think you came empty-handed, my friend."

"Me?" he gasped. "Such a good guest? Oh dear [y/n], you're wounding me!" He winced dramatically and clutched onto his heart.

"Oh no, no! I'm sorry!" she laughed and her wings fluttered, lifting her above the ground, letting her cup his face in an attempt to soothe the grimace.

At her touch, _this soft, warm touch_ , he tensed and ended the show at once. He handed her the rose, arching an eyebrow. "Do you underestimate me, my dear?" he asked, voice low.

Her lips curled. "I wouldn't dare." She accepted the flower and gasped when it unfolded into an enormous bouquet and fell heavily into her arms. She burst with a sincere laughter. "What a trick!" Julian lit up, so proud of himself. "They're beautiful! Thank you."

"I thought so, too…" His eyes took her in quickly. "...but then I thought of how sweet you are to me and suddenly, they didn't seem quite enough. So, I thought I- Oh!" He blinked and double-took at her ear. "Would you look at that?"

"What?" She touched it, glancing up at him in confusion. His surprise was definitely fake and there was something undoubtedly mischievous about it.

"How did it get behind your ear?" He raised a hand to her and stopped in a question. "May I?"

Her whole body froze in alarm but inside, it tingled with curiosity and excitement. He was playing with her, for sure, like she had with him. It was another challenge, maybe also a trick. Maybe she was about to agree to him snapping her neck but…

"...yes," she replied, making his eyes laugh for a second. He moved closer, and she observed him carefully, barely hiding how nervous she was. Her heart skipped a beat at the brush of the back of his fingers against her cheekbone. But she stayed put. The rest happened quickly: his touch over her ear, behind it, sending a thrill down her spine, not entirely unpleasant, and then it was gone, and she jolted when something bumped against her shoulder. She whipped her head to the side and saw that 'from behind her ear', he pulled out a fine, golden necklace with a ruby pendant.

"Julian!" she gasped.

"I've been practicing it for a week," he explained proudly.

"No, not- I mean…" she stammered and laughed, seeing the very smug look on his face. "That too, but… The necklace. It's too much!"

"Nonsense. I must reciprocate your generosity."

"Julian… It's just tea..." she mumbled, trying to hide a blushing cheek behind her hand.

He had brought her flowers, candy and sweet wines before but never anything this expensive. She wondered for a second if this violated the rule of the gift but even if it did, she was way too flustered and flattered to act.

"It's tea with _you_ , my dear. Well?" He spread the necklace in front of her. The ruby twinkled in the candlelight. "What do you think?"

"It's wonderful. But you really shouldn't have…"

He beamed. "Do you like it?" He frowned. "Or is it too little?"

"No! No, great heavens, Julian, dear. I do love it."

He brightened up all over again, _and_ _wasn't it truly delightful to see him like this?_ "Really?"

"Yes."

"May I, then?" he asked, raising the necklace. Suddenly, the joy in his eyes wasn't so pure anymore. Suddenly, there was a challenge, too.

"Oh!" she understood what he meant, and her heart hammered in her chest. "Yes, of course," she said because what other choice did she have? To be a coward and try and perhaps fail to refuse gently enough _not_ to give the vampire the right to drink her dry? No, not tonight. Not ever. So, trying her best not to show hesitation, she did something she had never done before in Julian's or any other vampire's presence, nor would she ever think she'd willingly do.

She _turned her back_ to him.

She gathered up her hair _._

 _She offered him her neck_.

[y/n] cursed Julian for how just too easily he managed to put her in this position; how he even made sure both her hands would be busy. _Genius_ . She threw the roses an accusing glare and drew in a shaky breath, straining to stay calm. She felt vulnerable. Unarmed. _Naked_ with her nape bared like this. An icy thrill ran down her spine even though her whole body was burning with emotions clashing and merging within her.

 _But maybe it would turn to her advantage?_ , she mused. One false move on his side, a hint of pain, a drop of blood, and she'd have a reason to strike, and maybe, _maybe_ the second she'd lose to letting go of her hair and dropping the roses, wouldn't-

Julian approached her from behind, making her mind go blank in alarm. She held her breath when his arms encircled her, her heart skipped a beat when his hand brushed against her shoulder _by accident_ . She shivered at the cold stone falling on the heated skin of her cleavage and it sliding up to rest in the hollow at the base of her neck. She blushed _oh_ so hotly, equally in excitement and fear and embarrassment, because there was no way he didn't hear her heart pounding or didn't see her skin rising with goosebumps at the feather-light touch of his fingers on her nape as he was fastening the necklace.

Her lips parted around a soundless sigh and she let her eyes flutter closed when he rested just the tips of his fingers on her shoulders. His thumbs brushed up, shortly, almost imperceptibly, in the shiest of caresses.

_Oh, to lean into his arms like this..._

"Let me see you," he hummed, the sound low, his breath tickling her ear.

She dropped her hair, ran her fingers through them, took a deep, calming breath, willing the rioting emotions away from her face, and only then did she turn to him.

If he had gone through at least half of what she had, he didn't show it.

He eyed her cleavage. "Stunning," he judged, then winked. "But the necklace is nice, too."

She huffed. "Flatterer."

"Not at all."

She slapped his shoulder lightly and pointed a warning finger at him. "Don't you bring me any more such gifts, my friend. This is way too much for the occasion."

He pretended to consider it. "Let's agree to disagree."

"Julian."

"Why would I make a promise I know I won't keep?" he laughed, spreading his arms helplessly. 

She gave up with a sigh. "Please, have a seat. Help yourself to the sweets. I'll just put the roses in a vase and serve tea."

"Would you like any help?"

Her heart fluttered but she stayed calm as she took a risk. "Thank you, that's no problem."

They exchanged one more polite smile, and she turned away from him _again_ and went to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Julian strolled to the table, looking around, enjoying the decor, the scents, _the warmth_...

He remembered the first time he came here, en garde, bold, prepared for any trick and trap the sneaky little fairy could have in stock for him. What he wasn't prepared for, though, what swept him off of his feet and made him forget all of his own tricks and traps, was this _warmth_. The one inside, the atmosphere that invited to come in and relax. The everpresent smell of herbs and tea and honey. Of fresh linen and wood, and fresh flowers standing all over the place together with candles bathing the interior in soft light. A steaming cup just for him. A rich assortment of biscuits, chocolates and candied fruit and flowers because she didn't know what he liked yet. That plush blanket on the back of his chair…

Things his cold, dimly lit house soaked with the smell of coffee and dust couldn’t compete with.

Not that he minded the cold or dark, because he didn't, being what he was. But these things here, they were nice. _Warm_ . Just like being welcomed with kindness and a smile, _especially as beautiful as hers_. Or invited in for a drink, even if only for the sake of the game. But it couldn't be a part of the game when she blushed at his compliments, could it? Or when she laughed at his jokes. Or touched him, lightly, playfully as they bickered. Or when-

She gasped in pain and glass shattered in the kitchen.

Julian rushed there without second thoughts. He found her standing at the counter, broken glass and water all around her, the roses lying there cupped by remains of a vase. She was clutching her hand to her chest.

_The smell of fairy blood hit him a second too late._

His jaws clenched and ached, and mouth watered with overwhelming, blinding _want_. He felt how his vision focused, how his muscles flexed, preparing him for a pounce.

He swallowed and took a deep breath through his teeth. No matter if it was a trick or an accident... "Let me help."

Her mouth fell open, a refusal sharp on the tip of her tongue, and the pain of the cut on her hand and fear of getting much more than this made her let it show for a moment.

But Julian was already sweeping the glass from around her with his foot.

"I… No, please," she stammered. "There's no need." She got a hold of herself and waved her hand towards the storage - the door opened and the broom flew out, getting down to work. "Thank you. Julian, thank you. I… You can go. I'm fine."

"Let me help," he repeated, again, more firmly.

[y/n] had no choice but to agree. Another refusal would be rude and could cost her her life.

She nodded. "There are bandages in th- Ah!" she yelped when Julian picked her up and sat down on the counter.

"Sorry," he said, stepping away, letting the broom do its job. "Where?"

"Cupboard."

She watched him find her first aid kit and take out from it a bottle of disinfectant, a few cotton pads, a piece of gauze, a roll of bandage, wondering where the line was. She had let a vampire into her house, provoked him, turned her back to him, bared her neck, and now was letting him dress her bleeding wound.

"May I see it?" he asked softly, wetting a pad.

 _Where will they stop?_ She nodded and unclutched her hand.

_Will they ever?_

Julian tsked at seeing the bloody palm. [y/n] froze, alert, conflicted, as he held it gently and began to clean it. "It's my fault," he murmured, running the pad around the wound with patience and care. "Should've removed the thorns. I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly," she found herself saying. "I am sorry. I was clumsy. And rude to you. It just hurt and caught me off guard and I…" She willed her mouth shut and shook her head. "Sorry."

He peeked at her, a mischievous spark in his eyes. "Caught off guard? You, my dearest?"

She didn't stop the smile that curled her lips nor the blush that rose to her cheeks at the teasing tone and term of endearment. "I suppose I was in a hurry to get back to you, my favourite guest."

He chuckled softly. "Appreciated" He threw the used pad into the sink and wetted another one. "but unnecessary." He placed it on the wound and delicately pressed.

[y/n] hissed at the sting. When it passed and she relaxed, she raised her eyes to him and found him gazing back at her.

"I will wait for you for as long as it takes," he breathed, meaning so much more than just tea that it astounded even him.

And her… Something like butterflies fluttered in her stomach and heat washed over her once again. Suddenly, she became extremely aware of her hand cradled in his, of him standing so close she could see the touch of blue in the grey irises. She kept her eyes locked with his, unable and unwilling to look away, not when there was so much awe and sincere affection in them.

_It was the first time he looked at her like this - for so long._

But then he blinked as if realising what he was doing and stared down at their hands. He raised the pad soaked in red and threw it into the sink, too. The wound wasn't bleeding anymore. "And there's no need to apologise." He grabbed the gauze and covered the wound with it. "You weren't rude. If anything, I was stubborn."

"Nonsense," she replied. As he was busy bandaging her hand, she took the chance and let her eyes wander over his face for a little longer: over the narrow lips, the sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose dusted with paled freckles remembering the times when the sun used to kiss him.

He was done soon, though, his practice as a doctor showing, and he moved away, packed up the kit and put it back in the cupboard. He washed his hands, rubbing them hard, not looking into the sink.

[y/n] closed and opened her hand experimentally. "Thank you."

"Happy to help." He flashed her a smile, and she could tell it was forced. He nodded at her hand, wiping his in a dishcloth. "Does it hurt?"

"Only a little."

"Oh. Sorry..." He saddened. "Maybe I should go...? Maybe you'd like to have a rest. I'd hate to overstay my welcome."

"Don't be silly." She slid off of the counter. "It's nothing, I'm fine."

"I'm just so embarrassed that you got hurt with the flowers I gave you."

"It's alright. Roses have thorns." She shrugged. "I should've been more careful. It's not like you gave them to me for me to get hurt."

"I didn't," he replied at once, the intensity in his voice shocking him again, making him look away. "I really didn't."

"I know," she said because somehow, it was true. "Shall we go on with our tea party?" She smiled and reached out to touch his arm.

But he backed off. "Gladly. But…" He still wouldn't meet her eyes. "Would you mind if I went out for a minute? To get some fresh air."

She understood. "Of course not. Take your time. I'll serve the tea."

"Thank you." A tense smile, a stiff, short bow and he was gone. The soft, night air rolled in through the door he left ajar.

They took a deep breath, clearing their systems from the too close, too honest presence of the other. Julian tipped his head back, looked at the clear sky and stars twinkling calmly, oblivious of the storm within him, and let out a long sigh. The scent of her blood was still lingering in his nose and mouth. His hands were still warm from holding hers.

He sighed again and rubbed his face. _With those warm hands_. Julian groaned, though he wanted to scream.

Meanwhile, [y/n] leaned against the counter and looked at the bloody pads in the sink, then at her neatly dressed hand. _How much it had to cost him…?_ She felt hot, her heart fluttering and chest tingling with emotions she couldn’t tell apart anymore. All she could think about was his tenderness and his eyes, and the freckles. _She wanted to peck this nose._

She pushed away the idea and herself from the counter. She grabbed the dishcloth, picked up the roses (which the broom thoughtfully spared) through it and put them in her second prettiest vase. She poured water into it and the kettle and put it on the stove, trying to get her head back in the game instead of dwelling on how it felt to have her hand held in his, to be touched with such care, to be gazed at as if he-

Water boiled, interrupting her deep thought, and she was grateful for that. She focused on making tea.

Julian returned to the living room when she was serving it.

She beamed at him. "Right on time. Have a seat."

"Thank you." He sunk into the softness of the blanket on the backrest and cradled the cup, grateful for the heat and bittersweet smell of the brew, already so familiar and adored. These soothed him.

"Honey?" She offered him a bowl of golden liquid.

"Please." He scooped a spoonful and stirred it in his tea.

"Here." She passed him a plate of candied almonds. "I remember you liked them last time."

"Aren't you sweet." He took a couple. Sugar cracked between his teeth. He moaned.

Her smile was pleased. "How have you been, dear friend?" she said while she helped herself to the tea and a strawberry. "This count of yours still importuning you for immortality?"

Julian huffed. "He's not mine by no means." He eagerly accepted a piece of apple cake from her. "And yes, sadly. But I'd rather starve than put my mouth anywhere near him." He took a bite of the cake and moaned again. "I certainly rather it stayed near your table. It's so much more fun and tasty."

"My pleasure," she chuckled.

He swallowed and pointed towards another plate, this one with a pyramide of small red cubes covered in powdered sugar. "What are those?"

She handed him the plate. "Pomegranate jelly. Help yourself."

He tried one. His eyes rolled back in delight.

[y/n] laughed cordially at his wholehearted enthusiasm. _Spoiling him shouldn't feel so good._

But when he took another one, she frowned. "You seem hungry," she noticed. "Would you like something more than just sweets?"

His eyebrows shot up and he paused mid-chewing. He finished eating quickly. "No, no, my dear, I don't want to trouble you. You've prepared so much, as always. This is more than enough."

"Don't be silly, that's no trouble at all." She sat up, ready to indulge her guest. "What can I offer you? What would you like?"

Julian hesitated. She was right, he was a little hungry. He supposed the incident in the kitchen, the strain to resist his nature wore him out a bit.

So, he considered her offer. _It was a trap, no doubt._ _She knew perfectly what he would like_. But he'd been rejecting the option of just asking for it as he thought it would be too straightforward. Perhaps, _probably_ even, if he dared to go for it, he'd risk being rude and thus, a poor guest, which would mean losing the game and dying a gruesome death. But frankly, he was running out of ideas for subtle provocations. Plus, tonight was nothing but a sequence of breakthroughs, so why shouldn't he try to be a little more bold? Especially when the hostess herself was offering.

The game had to go on.

"You don't happen to have any… blood, do you?"

Her lips curled in a suspiciously innocent smile. _She was hoping he'd ask for this_. "I might have just the thing."

"You do?"

She smirked mysteriously. "Excuse me." She stood up, he did so with her, and she went to the kitchen and he fell back into his chair.

He downed his tea and braced himself for whatever could come.

A few minutes later, she returned, carrying on a tray a tureen, a ladle, a bowl and a spoon. She set those on the table and lifted the lid of the tureen. A white cloud of steam burst up. [y/n] dipped the ladle and poured some of the thick, dark red liquid into the bowl.

"A soup?" Julian wondered, accepting it from her.

She nodded. "Duck blood. I hope it's alright?"

"But of course!" Julian stared into it, not knowing what to think yet. It smelled good, though. "I'm impressed. And very much flattered."

She took her seat. "I hope you like it."

She raised her teacup and observed with a polite curiosity as he took the spoon and dipped it in the bowl. _She put a whole cup of tar into the soup and expected a reaction_.

He put the first bite into his mouth. [y/n] watched him with a pounding heart. He kept it there for a second, two… then swallowed and went for another one. And not a muscle on his face twitched. Not even his brows furrowed.

 _Damn, he was good_. And then the cut on her hand stung, and suddenly, she felt bad for doing this to him.

But when he looked back at her, there was venom in his smile.

She made herself focus. "How is it?" she asked calmly.

"Delicious, my dear," he answered in kind.

 _Impossible_. "You don't have to eat it if you don't like it. I- I may lack skill in preparing blood soup. So if it's- "

"No, no, why, my dear, it's perfect." He shovelled the rest of it into his mouth as if going for a record, then raised the bowl, the foxy grin still there on his face. "May I have some more please?"

She could barely hide her disbelief. "You really don't have to eat it."

His smile capsized and eyes went wide and glossy and fell to the table together with the bowl. "Oh. Well. I didn't mean to be greedy. I'm so s- "

"NO!" she cut him off, feeling the magic in the air tremble with her about to break one of the most sacred rules of hospitality. She grabbed his bowl and poured him a hearty portion. _Great gods, she was doing terribly during this tea… What was going on with her?_ "There you go, sweetie! You may have as much as you want. You got me wrong, dearest, I just wasn't sure if I prepared it right and thought you were forcing yourself to eat it."

The grin was back on his face, his eyes narrowed with a laughter he was barely stopping. _He felt it, too._ "I'm not. I love it." He had another spoon, holding her gaze. "So," he said. "How's business?"

She let out a discreet sigh of relief. "Very well, thank you. My mint and rosemary have never been better."

"Do you still trade with that nasty witch?"

"Yes, I traded him some herbs and flowers for some bread only yesterday. He bakes good." She glanced at him suspiciously. "Why? Are you still cross with him for waking you up that one time?"

Julian pouted, then bravely stuffed another spoonful into his mouth. "He was just being an ass. He knows perfectly well that I sleep during the day. He could've slipped me a note under the door, not barged straight into my room. He scared the hell out of me and then blamed me for attacking him. That's not fair."

"Didn't you see it was him?"

"He woke me up and flashed a magic light in my eyes."

"Oh, right."

He finished the soup as they chatted, then politely refused when [y/n] offered him more. She didn't insist. They drank the tea and ate the sweets, for a moment forgetting about the game and simply enjoying each other's company.

But the sun had no mercy and was about to rise way too soon for their liking.

They exchanged the standard pleasantries. [y/n] walked Julian to the door. "You're not welcome here anymore. Please leave," she recited half-heartedly when he went out, and immediately, the barrier rose.

Julian closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulders dropping as if relaxing after hours of strain.

"Relieved?" she asked.

He let out a soft, mirthless chuckle and sighed once more, not even trying not to sound sad. "Yes and no." But when he looked back at her, he was smirking. "At least I can be insolent again."

"Oh?" She feigned surprise. "So you ever stop?"

He laughed once more, sincerely this time, and she couldn’t help but join him.

"You almost got me with the soup," she confessed.

"YOU almost got me with the soup!" he countered. "What on earth did you put in it? It was a torture! What was it? So bitter…"

"Tar." She covered her mouth with her hands. "I'm sorry!"

Julian cursed under his breath and grimaced and shook his head. "Disgusting."

"But you played along like a champion."

Julian huffed nonchalantly. "And what did you expect, my sweet? You picked yourself a worthy opponent."

"Yes, I did."

They shared another laughter and another smile. Until it turned sad. And resigned.

Julian looked away and made a move as if to walk away, opened his mouth as if to say goodbye, but changed his mind and gazed back at her. So very slowly, so unsurely, he put a hand on the doorframe and stood nearly as close as he could. He sent her a longing look. "Can we- " he murmured shily. "Could we… do _that_ again?"

She gaped at him for a second, felt heat rise to her cheeks and spread throughout her whole body like after a mug of mulled wine. "You _are_ insolent," she murmured, coming closer.

"Told you so."

"I spoiled you, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," he confirmed cheekily, then his smile softened again. "Please, my darling."

[y/n] hesitated for a moment more, not really sure why. Julian was harmless behind the barrier, she was safe inside her home and, frankly, _she hoped the whole night he'd ask._

She came even closer, to the very border, put a hand on the doorframe next to his. She looked into his eyes, saw there the same quiet longing and affection as after their second tea. As after each time since then. The same he seemed to care less and less to hide from her.

_The same she was sure he could see in her eyes right now._

She made up her mind and craned her neck towards him, and Julian leaned in. And when he got as close as he could without pushing on the barrier, she climbed on the tiptoes and, with her heart trembling, pressed her lips to his.

Julian hummed as his very core contracted with something painful and sweet. On instinct, just like last time, his hand shot to [y/n], to cup her lovely face, to dip in the softness of her hair, to embrace her and hold her closer, _close_ , and feel her dear heart sing against his empty chest. And like last time, it was stopped at the barrier, an inch from her cheek. His face twisted in frustration and embarrassment, and he was glad she didn't see it. But he didn't let himself succumb to these. He could barely feel her warmth or the softness of her kiss, but _by the gods_ he did feel some of it! And this was the most he would ever feel of her; the closest, the most intimate they would ever get, and he intended to savour it, commit it to memory, every precious second of it...

...until she moved away and fell down on her feet.

Julian blinked his eyes open, feeling dizzy and confused and so profoundly, painfully _unsatisfied_ . After a second, he realised he was still leaning down, so he straightened up and touched his hair and fixed his shirt though it didn't need it. _He'd had blushed all the way up to his ears if he could_. At last, he glanced at her, and she seemed an equal mess with her eyes turned away and a hand on her cheek.

And with the delightful heat radiating from her even through the magic wall.

And with her heart beating so fast and loud…

_Oh, to sweep her into his arms and never let go…_

Not in this life, though.

Julian smiled, and it was wistful. "Until we meet again, my darling," he said, making her look at him.

Her smile was sad, too. "Goodbye, my dearest."

One last longing look, last elegant bow, and Julian disappeared into the night.

[y/n] closed the door and slumped against it with a heartbroken sigh. Her hand rose to the pendant and she turned it between her fingers, thinking, dreaming, remembering the feeling of his lips on hers; how soft and gentle they were; how in the heat of the moment, she raised her hand, desperate to touch him.

She let out another sigh at the memory of feeling the cold barrier instead. _At least he didn't see it. What an embarrassment it would be_.

She shook her head and pushed herself away from the door. She got down to cleaning up, her mind already set on what to prepare for the upcoming tea.


	2. Many teas and moons later

Many teas later, many dusks and moons, and gifts, and provocations and tricks - and [y/n] remained a perfect host and Julian a perfect guest, each meeting ending with a draw. So many teas and looks, and smiles, compliments, careful touches and kisses over the threshold… And at some point, the game just stopped to matter.

[y/n] sent Julian an invitation, as usual, as each month. She was unusually excited, though, for the date of their meeting was supposed to be a solstice, the longest night of the year, full of magic and vibrating with energy. It was a night when anything could happen, so she was sure it would be right then when their game should end; when one of them would make a mistake or outsmart and take over the other. And frankly, after so many teas, [y/n] didn't care anymore if she'd win or lose.

But Julian didn't reply right away to her invitation as he usually did. In fact, he didn't reply at all. And so, on the day of solstice, [y/n] found herself sitting at the table, toying with the ruby pendant he gave her, staring at a jam stain on the tablecloth, wondering if she should bother and change it or at least move the vase with wilted red roses to cover it.

Her teary eyes rose to the flowers. Since she accepted the necklace, Julian would come to each tea with another expensive gift: a pair of rose quartz earrings, an amber brooch, a bottle of red wine… and always,  _ always _ with an armful of heavy, luxurious, red roses. [y/n] would never admit it to anyone but she kept each bouquet for the whole month until next tea, using any method she knew to keep it fresh and beautiful for as long as possible. This time, since Julian didn't reply, she neither threw it away nor took care of it, and the flowers died and dried, the once velvety petals crumbling on the table and floor.

[y/n]'s wings fluttered pitifully and added another pinch of shimmering dust to the mess. But she didn't mind and didn't summon the broom sleeping peacefully in the storage. Why would she? She wasn't having any guests over.

Submerged in sad and angry thoughts, she didn't notice when the day ended. But the moment the crown of the sun disappeared behind the horizon, a familiar gentle knock on the door startled her. She jumped to her feet and rushed to open. She found Julian standing on the path to her cottage, at a distance, eyes wide and dark, and restless.

At the sight of her, a smile sincere and bright bloomed on his face. "Good evening, darling," he greeted her softly. His gaze fell to her neck, and he beamed. "You're wearing the ruby! It suits you so well."

"Good evening, Julian."

His face fell at her cold tone. He bowed his head in a humble gesture. "Please forgive me for not answering to your invitation and coming without notice. I didn't mean to offend you. I'm so sorry."

She frowned, now worried. "What happened, my dear? Come closer so I can see you."

Within a blink of an eye, he closed the distance. He stopped just a step away from her, put his hands on the doorframe, leaned towards her as close as he could, towering over her, looking down at her intently, desperately, pleadingly.

[y/n] gasped and flinched but didn't recoil. She observed him, then blinked in surprise. "You're different."

He looked away, feeling unsure. "Am I?"

"You... smell different," she observed. "You seem…" She raised her hand to him, opened it but didn't outstretch it. "...warm."

"I have fed," he explained slowly, his voice low, almost choked with fear, with hope. "I've been away, feeding, for many days, that's why I haven't replied to you, but now, I'm back and I can't take a drop more. Oh [y/n]! Now, even your blood isn’t calling to me!" He dared look at her. "My sweetest, my dearest heart… If you invite me in tonight, if you let me hold you,  _ kiss you _ , just once, just for a minute, I will go on for the next hundred years and I will be truly happy by the mere memory of it."

[y/n] held his ardent gaze with wide eyes, her chest heaving. She was silent, time was passing. And then, she took a step back into the cottage, and Julian bit back a moan, and his heart, if it hadn't turned to ashes years ago, would break.

But then, she whispered: "Please come in."

He sighed at the sweet words, at the feeling of the barrier in front of him dropping. So hopeful, so anxious now, he stepped in and breathed with the beloved smell of flowers, herbs and honey like he always did. He took another step towards [y/n], just one, careful not to scare her. He fell to his knee, then to the other.

"Please," he breathed, reaching out to her.

His dead heart sang at how she came to him and gave him her hand without a trace of hesitation. He squeezed it dearly but gently, gently! -  _ it was so small in his _ \- and leaned to it, and placed a kiss on the delicate skin, pouring all his adoration for her into it.

And if this was it, if he wasn't allowed more and had to leave now, it would be alright.

But no. Her other hand rested on his head, stroked his hair in a caress so tender and innocent and true he could swear his heart revived and pounded in his chest. And then, she was even closer. His forehead pressed to the softness of her belly, her arms wound around his neck and shoulders, her hands cradled his head, and he dared and let himself embrace her fragile form. And he was allowed to. He was hugged tighter, to her chest, to her heart beating, beating, beating...

"I love you so much," he whispered.

Her heart fluttered against his cheek. Julian smiled.

"I know," she murmured back. She bent over him and kissed the top of his head. "I love you, too, my dear."

He nodded fervently. "I know."

He then felt one of her hands move from his hair to his face; felt her fingers smooth down his jaw, under his chin to tilt his head up. He froze, but only for a moment, for the smile he found on her face melted all his fears and doubts.

_ Who needed the sun when she smiled at him like this? _

And then, she was leaning to him, and he craned his neck to her, and their lips met, truly at long last, after what it felt like an eternity of kissing through silk. And  _ oh dear gods _ were hers the softest and warmest in the whole world. Their kiss was innocent, affectionate, until it grew hungry, but not for blood, not domination - for closeness, for the beloved body and its beauty and pleasure; soon, it was desperate but not to win - to feel, to give, to show more and more of the love and desire that stemmed between them over the time. They let it bloom in the intimacy of her bed, in the silence of that long, magical night. They filled it with tender touches, gentle kisses and heartfelt confessions and sighs of delight; cherished every minute, every hour, from the first one…

…to the very last.

Julian sat up suddenly, slipping away from [y/n]'s arms, startling her.

She rose to an elbow. "What is it, love?" she asked, her voice soft but tinted with worry.

He turned to her, frowning miserably. "Oh darling!" He smoothed his fingers over her cheek. "It's almost dawn. I must go."

Her face fell. "Oh."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could stay."

She covered his hand with hers and tried to smile. "Me too, dearest. Me too."

He sighed, then leaned in to kiss her, but turned away just an inch from her lips.

"Julian?"

"I'm so sorry." His hands clenched into fists on the sheets. "I'm getting hungry again."

Nevertheless, she moved closer to him. Her gentle fingers tried to turn his face back to hers. "Please. Just once more."

"Oh [y/n]…"

"You won't hurt me."

He looked into her eyes, found there the same yearning and affection that burnt in him. He shook his head, leaning in. "I could never."

They kissed, just once more but like it were their last kiss ever. Soon, so soon though, a feral growl rolled out from Julian's throat, and he shot away from her, from the bed, grabbed his clothes and disappeared from the bedroom.

[y/n] waited for a moment, for her trembling heart to calm down, then followed him, her naked skin nearly glowing in the darkness.

Julian was standing in the entryway, dressed and ready to go. He turned to her at hearing her light footsteps.

"I mustn't stay," he repeated as if to convince himself. 

She nodded. "I know." She smiled encouragingly, took a step towards him with her hand outstretched. "It's alright. Don't be sad. Don't be afraid."

He leapt to her and swept her into his arms. "Please," he breathed, holding her. "Please, my love, tell me to leave."

She hugged him back, as hard as she could, then drew away, climbed on the tiptoes and pecked his nose. "Leave, sweetheart," she whispered and an invisible force, like a gust of wind, opened the door and took Julian away from her hands and out, across the threshold. He sighed in relief, in misery, in longing, and she came up. "Go home. Take care."

"I will."

"And wait for another invitation for tea."

"That's all I live for."

They shared a smile and another bittersweet kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr - [santamalgastadora](https://santamalgastadora.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> I never mention an element like herb, flower or fruit without it meaning a very specific thing.
> 
> Pink camellia - longing for you  
> White carnation - innocence, pure love, women’s good luck gift  
> White jasmine - sweet love, amiability  
> Blue salvia - I think of you  
> Rosemary - remembrance, love, lust, fidelity  
> Cornflower - tenderness, fidelity, reliability  
> Mint - fidelity and precious moments  
> Honey, almonds, strawberries, apples and pomegranate are aphrodisiacs and symbols of love and marriage, and so are rubies and red roses.
> 
> And you can bet that so is every gift Julian will bring for his fairy in the future.


End file.
